Moonlight MadNESS
by Enkidu07
Summary: Dean's hiking.  Again.  And hot.  And sick.  And there's a hunt.  Really.  Sick!Dean for Vanessa!  Happy super belated birthday.


**Title**: Moonlight Mad-NESS: I won't let you fall.  
><strong>Author<strong>: Enkidu07  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: These characters do not belong to me.  
><strong>AN:** This is a special belated birthday surprise for Vanessa Sgroi. Thanks for everything you do to help with the EO Challenge and for contributing so much hurtin!Dean to the world. I hope your birthday was special.**  
>AN2:** Check out companion pieces by Mad Server, PA Davis, and sidjack! See if you can pick out the common theme… or, you know, read their author notes and maybe they tell you.  
><strong>AN3**: Special thanks to mainegirlwrites for the read-through and suggestions and to Mad Server for then scrubbing it clean. Any left over cheesy goo belongs to me.

o0o

Sam knows Dean doesn't like to hike, but this is ridiculous. The two-hour trail is already pushing an hour and a half and they haven't even hit the halfway point yet.

Sam drops his pack and sinks onto a rotted out log to wait. The scratchy shrubs do little to provide shade but the evening breeze quickly dries the sweat on his face.

Finally the bushes betray Dean entering the clearing. Sam frowns as Dean staggers forward, unsteady, one hand palming the side of his head.

"What's wrong?"

Dean's reaction is hilarious. Or distressing. He whips his hands up and falls back into undergrowth, face blanching, knees all but giving out. "Shit, Sam. Don't do that!"

Sam stands up, brushes the dirt from his jeans. "What's wrong with your head?" He persists.

"Nothing." Dean frowns petulantly, then adds, "Ear hurts." He pushes out of the branches, then goes still, "Do ya think a bug crawled in there last night in that fleabag motel?" Dean's concerned eyes search Sam's in horror.

"Dude, you've been sick for days. It's probably an ear infection. You should hit the clinic in town, kill it before it kills you."

Dean grumbles but paces closer, palm working its way back over his ear. "What if it's, like, a cockroach or something? Laying eggs?"

Sam grimaces and shakes his head. "There's not a bug in your ear."

"How do you know? Look," Dean demands. He stops in front of Sam, plants his feet, cocks his head.

The close up of Dean's head reveals more than flushed cheeks and sweat-spiked hair. The side of his face is damp, moisture clings to his unshaven jaw, and he's panting from the exertion of hiking in the warm day. Glossy eyes beckon Sam insistently so Sam concedes and leans closer to get a look in Dean's ear. "Oh, yeah. Whole colony living in there. COME TOWARD THE LIGHT!"

Dean jerks away and shoots him a dirty look.

"Seriously, man. See a doctor."

o0o

"Look at the lunar cycle."

"I looked at the lunar cycle. And the solar cycle. And the star charts. Something just doesn't add up. The deaths happen on full moons, but not regularly." Sam shoves the papers away in frustration. "Let's get dinner. I'm starving."

Dean shuffles the papers, stands over the table, then puts his unsteady body into a chair**.** "Yeah. Maybe there's an interaction? Like… the weather. It's been hot here all week."

"It's not that hot. A little dry, but I think your fever is warping your perception." Sam pulls his shoes on, digs through his jacket for keys and then throws it back on the bed. "Dean. Food."

"Sure." Dean stretches up, pats his pockets, doesn't budge. "It has been dry," he muses. "Hasn't rained since…" Dean shuffles through their notes again, comes up empty. He pulls the laptop closer and searches local weather. "Huh, hasn't rained since the lunar cycle started." He waggles eyebrows at Sam. "A _little_ dry?"

Sam eyes the dates they have lined up, sees a lead open up in the search. His stomach rumbles. "You're brilliant. Let's finish it after dinner."

"You go. I'm not hungry and this is just getting good."

Sam gapes openly. "Now I know you're sick. No food? And now the research is getting good?"

Dean starts digging into weather stats and shrugs Sam off when he tries to cop a feel.

o0o

Sam tosses a bottle of water at Dean's head and then stands over him munching his dessert taco. "Not bad, grasshopper," Sam mumbles around sweet cheesy goo, flipping through the papers. Dean's notes show a direct correlation between lunar cycles void of rain and the unexplained deaths.

"Best guess so far is that it's reptilian. Emerges when it's dry. Feeds. Stays in hibernation when it's too wet."

"Let me guess. It's a basilisk."

"A what?"

"A basilisk. All we have to do is find the Chamber of Secrets." Sam chuckles.

"What?"

"The Cha-" Sam looks at Dean's confused, unamused face, "uh, never mind." Sam clears his throat. "That would explain the scales we found."

"Yeah. Bobby thinks chameleon-like."

Sam sighs. "Awesome. How do we find it?"

o0o

They start early the next day. Dean's research predicts that water will slow the lizard-man down and now all they need is a way to transport gallons of water into the dry Arizona scrubland.

Dean's moving a little slower than usual, but he has a plan. He sends Sam to find backpacks while he goes to track down some water tanks and hoses at the small hardware store in town.

By the time they've stashed the Impala in a shady patch off the highway and are getting ready to hike back in, the sun is riding high in the sky. Dean has rigged the discount packs that Sam found at the Walgreens with two large cylinders of pressurized water and manually controlled hoses. Sam struggles into his and falters under the weight of the contraption.

A glance shows that strength of will is probably the only thing keeping Dean moving. His shirt is drenched, his hair is awkwardly flattened on one side, and red patches ride high on pallid cheeks. Sam fights an urge to hose him off with some of his water.

"I feel like Bill Murray in _Ghostbusters_," Sam comments as they hit the trail.

Dean flashes a shadow of his usual grin and coughs into his shoulder. "Who you gonna call?" His voice is a grating rasp and Sam winces with him.

o0o

Sam's soaked by the time the creature's heart is merrily burning in the dusk.

He wipes a sleeve over his mouth and turns in time to see Dean retching in the bushes, shirt torn and bicep bleeding from the thing's freakin' horn. Dean pushes himself back on shaky arms and drops, sputtering in the wet dirt.

"You okay?"

Dean chatters a grunt in reply, and wraps an arm protectively around his stomach.

Sam drops beside him and sits in the dirt. He fingers the gash in Dean's shirt, feels relief that the cut doesn't look that deep.

The moon hangs low and full in the sky and it looms larger-than-life in the balmy evening air. They both stare at it as stars slowly appear and darkness fully falls. Dean lays prone, head next to Sam's hip, bicep curled for a pillow. Sam hovers a hand over Dean's head and can feel the heat of his fever.

They stay there catching their breath and listen as the normal night noises resume now that evil is vanquished.

Sam's half asleep sitting in the dirt when Dean's hand winds its way into Sam's pant leg, bringing Sam's attention back to his brother. Dean is staring, wide-eyed, at the brilliant moon.

"You okay?"

"Feel like I'm gonna fall off," Dean grates.

Sam lets his hand fall on Dean's shoulder. "Close your eyes, Dean."

Sam looks back up at the calling moon while Dean rests at his side. He squeezes Dean's shoulder, "I won't let you fall."

o0o

end.


End file.
